She was a Question That Demanded An Answer
by Aurora Krick
Summary: After Grace's death Thomas Shelby's is more paranoid than ever before. Camilla Dupont appears in Small Heath and brings a huge opportunity. It would make his family empire untouchable. But nothing about her adds up. He's learned from his past, mysterious women never end well for him. But he must learn to trust...and partner with Camilla to fight for the empire he wants to build.
1. Chapter 1

**July 16 - Chapter 11 posted.** **Preview: Camilla recovers only to learn about a surprising turn in both her and Tommy's future.**

 **Chapter 1**

He smelled it first. The bite of iron mixed with the stench of garbage. The car pulled down the small shoddy road. Small Heath. Home.

The overcast sky, the constant drizzle, all things he had grown up with and become immune to. As he stepped out of the car his fancy shoes sunk into the wet black mud. He pulled the brim of his cap low, tugged at the collar of his black overcoat. He had business with Michael.

As he crossed the road an unusual event caught his eye. Further down the road, a young lady was precariously perched at the top of a step ladder, hanging a sign to an iron post. Her silver blonde hair plastered to her face. She stood on tiptoe, firm determination etched on her face. It was that look that caught his eye.

"Tommy!" Michael ran out into the rain, holding an umbrella for him. "You are early."

"Who's that?" Thomas tilted his chin down the road.

Michael squinted. "Oh her? Camilla Dupont. She leased that building a week ago. And the bedroom above it. Turning it into a hospital or something." He talked around the cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"She leased it?" Thomas knew the building. It was small, run down, but they overcharged on the lease.

"Aye."

"Did she bargain?"

Michael tilted his head, "Hm. No. She came with cash. Paid for the month already."

That sparked an interest. No one paid in full upfront around here, especially without a bargain. "Where is she from?"

"Um... I think her papers say London."

"A week ago you say?"

Michael nodded, brows furrowed trying to make out his line of questioning.

"Give me your umbrella."

"I have one for you here."

"No, I want both."

"Tommy, it's starting to rain like mad."

"Give me your umbrella Michael."

Reluctantly he handed both umbrella's over and hunched his shoulders as the rain fell on him. He tossed his wet cigarette.

"Go inside, I'll see you in a bit."

"The meeting Tommy?"

"I'll be there. Go inside."

Thomas held one umbrella and carried the other. He headed down the road. The woman was still still trying to get the last screw to attach to the sign. Her attention completely focused that she didn't see him standing by the ladder. Thomas waited until she screwed the sign before interrupting.

"Ms. Dupont."

Camilla wiped the rain from her eyes and peered down at him. "Yes?"

"You just leased this building."

"Yes?"

"It is part of the Shelby's real estate portfolio."

Slowly she took stepped down the ladder. Once on the ground she had to tilt her head back to meet his eye.

"Are you asking me questions or stating facts?"

The rain enhanced her perfume. The subtle scent of tuberose. She was petite. This close he caught the gold flecks of her light brown eyes.

"I am Thomas Shelby."

Her attention was on the ladder. She pushed at it trying to get it to cold. It didn't budge. "I know who you are Mr. Shelby."

He glanced up at the sign. A red cross against a white background. "You are a nurse?"

"No Mr. Shelby. I am a doctor. A certified doctor."

"You've come to open a hospital?"

"A clinic actually." She kicked at the ladder again. "Is there something you need Mr. Shelby? Because I have much to do before this place opens and it getting quite wet out here."

He glanced down at the second umbrella he had been holding. He had meant to give it to her. In their exchange he had forgotten about it. Camilla followed his gaze. "A bit late for that now Mr. Shelby."

He clenched his jaw. Being on his back foot was not common for him. He moved his own umbrella forward covering them both. "We have a hospital already Ms. Dupont."

"No. You have a hospital in Birmingham. You have midwives in Small Health. You have no clinic."

"You've done your research."

She shrugged and turned from him pushing the ladder against the wall, giving up on it completely. Even with the mud and rain she had the cleanliness of someone not from Birmingham. She stood with her spine straight, her shoulders back, chin up, eyes bright and defiant. He didn't know everything about women's fashion, but he recognized popular cuts, especially when they were similar Ada and Polly's clothing. The Shelby's bank account knew just how expensive their tastes were.

Camilla's didn't seem to give a damn that her fancy coat was soaked. And yet, she rented the flat above clinic. He knew that state of that single bedroom. Even the ones that didn't have money would've bargained for something better. And yet she paid for everything in cash upfront.

It wasn't adding up.

With one hand he reached out and gave the ladder a shove. It sprung close. "Where is this going?"

Her nostrils flared refusing to acknowledge his ease with the ladder. "Follow me." She led him around the corner, unlocking the door to the clinic.

Once inside she pointed against the wall, "That can go there." She barked orders like she was used to it.

The vestibule had one sad beaten down wooden desk. A large window by the front door streamed in gray light. Thomas looked around the sparse room. "This is your clinic?"

"Well it's in progress. And you have to your _imagination_ Mr. Shelby. Here come." She guided him down the short hallway. Her heels clicked. Her gait self assured. She glided down the hallway as if used to a sea of invisible beggars parting for her. Many of the upper class walk like that. Both May and Grace walked like that.

"The front rooms will be for walk-ins. I'm going to paint them, so it isn't that terrible death white. With all the windows there will be tons of light. Airy and bright. These back rooms will be for longer stays since they are larger. I'm going to add in another cot, incase family wants to stay the night. They will be more comfortable."

"And these rooms?" He pointed to the last rooms in the building.

"They will be for surgery and such things women may need."

He leaned forward. "This is a women's clinic?"

"Somewhat."

"You will only accept women?"

"That seems limiting no? The clinic will be open for all. But through word of mouth I hope the ladies of Small Heath will know this is also sanctuary for them."

The pieces clicked. "You are going to perform-"

She held up a hand. "No. That is not the goal of this clinic. Even though I am a trained surgeon, women have other medical needs besides that."

"You were in France?"

"That was a little before my time."

He tried to calculate how old she was. He'd have to look at her papers.

"When is this clinic opening?"

"By the end of the month I hope."

Excitement flooded her voice when she talked about the transformation. It was infectious. He was pulled into her vision. He cleared his throat shaking himself from the grip of her enthusiasm.

"You paid first months rent?"

"Yes. That um... Michael Gray gentleman? I gave it to his assistant the the beginning of the week."

He walked back down the hallway towards the front door. She kept up with his brusque stride. He pulled out his case of cigarettes, placing one between his lips.

"No, none of that in here." She looked him dead in the eye. "I'm serious."

Slowly he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and placed it back into the case.

"Now that you know I am not a deadbeat tenant, is there anything else you might need?" She was smiling civilly, but her eyes were sharp, prepared for defense if he antagonized her. He took his time collecting his umbrella, running through all the things he just learned, building her profile in his mind. She was a question that demanded answers.

"Rent is always first of the month. Twenty percent charge of it is late." He didn't mean for it sound as gruff as it did. It had been a long time since someone surprised him.

Camilla stood in the entryway, a smile plastered to her face. "Of course Mr. Shelby."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Camilla forced herself to stay focused. She finished writing her letter, placing the pen down and stretched her fingers. Still needed to work on writing with her left hand.

As she waited for the ink to dry, she tried to ignore the tiny disaster of her flat. When Michael Gray showed it to her, it was the only time she wanted to grant herself a small allowance and dip into her money to pay for something nicer. She tried not to laugh in his face when he told her the rent. The paint was peeling off the walls, the floors creaked, the window didn't shut properly, and the mattress was lumpy and sank in the middle.

She turned back to her letter and finished the final sentence, signing it with the signature she had practiced. She melted black wax at the bottom of the letter and pressed an old seal into it. She placed the seal back into an old gray sock and tucked the sock in the back of her dresser, throwing more socks on top of it. The letter, she placed into her handbag.

The rain stopped. The chill of the night seeped through the gaps in the window frame. The one, and only one redeeming quality of the flat was that it had constant hot running water. She drew a bath and sunk herself into its soothing embrace. Steam curled from the water. She un-pinned her white blonde hair letting it cascade down her shoulders. She closed her eyes, leaned back and exhaled deeply.

Small Heath. It certainly delivered on its reputation. The only warmth in this town was from the burning furnace of the steel factories. The people, all of them had the same flinty-eyed stare. Including Thomas Shelby.

He was different compared to his picture in the paper. The planes of his face harsher, his light blue eyes sharp, missing nothing. Even when he was just standing there, silent and observing he was saying everything.

She needed to be cautious. But she couldn't let him know she was being cautious. This dance required finesse.

Suddenly, a series of gunshots echoed in the night.

Her window shattered.

She dashed out of the tub, steam trailing off her skin, hastily wrapping a towel around her. Slowly, she tiptoed to the window and pulled back the curtain barely an inch. Four men in long black coats and newsboy caps dragged a man down the road. The Peaky Blinders. From one of the buildings a woman ran out screaming at them, demanding they release the man. One of them tried to hold her off. The woman tripped and fell on the pavement, cursing at them.

She saw it before they did. The knife, a big long blade glinted under the gas lamp. The woman pushed herself from the ground and ran at one of the Peaky Blinders, stabbing him in the back. She sunk the large blade in him again and again. The Peaky Blinder sunk to his knees. The woman dropped the bloody knife. The other three released the man, running to their friend's side.

The man rolled to his side, the woman helped him to this feet. One Peaky Blinder caught sight of them and yelled at them. But it was too late, they had ducked into an alley. She saw the building that opened its doors for them.

"Oi! Someone help!"

In her mind she was running through the names of the muscles and nerves in the area of the back the boy had been stabbed. She picked up her dress. Still wet from the rain. The wounded boy screamed. The boy's life was not waiting for her to make up her mind. He was bleeding out on the street. She threw on her flannel nightgown, and over it her thicker dressing gown, shoved on her boots and ran down the stairs.

The smell of wet stone hit her nose. The rain had stopped but the road was still slick. She ran the group of Peaky Blinders. "I can help, I'm a doctor." Their hands covered in blood.

"Do you have something I can press against the cuts? We need to get him inside."

"Who are you?" One of the Peaky Blinders yelled in her face.

"Camilla Dupont."

"Get away from him!"

Sucking in air she said slowly, "Like I said I am a doctor. A surgeon actually. This man is bleeding out. His artery is sliced. We need to get him inside. Now."

She turned to the bleeding Peaky Blinder, "Sir, what is your name?"

"A-Albert," he stuttered the words, eyes beginning to roll back in his head as shock started to set in. He was fresh faced and young. Too young.

"Can you boys get him up and inside?"

"The Garrison, it's closest" one of them said. Together they lifted Albert. They turned at Garrison and entered through the back entrance.

They were in the stockroom surrounded by barrels of beer. She cleared up a table, the boy was hoisted onto it. "We need to get Tommy!" One of them wailed.

The swinging doors to the stockroom burst open. Thomas Shelby, the devil summoned. The bar light silhouette his tall frame, he was a barrier between them and the bar crowd.

"What the bloody hell happened."'

The Peaky Blinder boys all started talking at once.

She raised her voice cutting through the mayhem."Gentlemen! I need some rags and scissors. Now!" Thomas pointed to one of them and they immediately scurried off. To the other he said "Grab Arthur."

Thomas stood next to her. "What are you doing here."

"I heard what happened from my window. I can help."

Clean bar rags and sharp scissors appeared. She cut through his jacket, and pressed the rags against his wound.

"I need to stop the blood."

"He needs a proper doctor."

"I am a proper doctor ."

She met his glare. "Look, we can stand here, and you can try to stare me down or you can let me save this boy."

The boy moaned.

She adopted a tone she used for parents that refused care for their children. "Let me explain to how this works. The knife cut through an artery that connects to his shoulder. It's a major artery and I need to cauterized it or he will bleed out. After that I need to stitch it together precisely if he is to regain full use of his shoulder."

Thomas continued to hold her gaze. She could see his mind working furiously through the scenarios.

"Mr. Shelby. I am not one to hurry, but time really is of the essence. Unless you have some gangster doctor that you can magically produce right this second, this boy is going to die on this table."

He tilted his head barely an inch. But she caught it, and it was enough for her to move into action.

"You," she pointed to the Peaky Blinder that remained, "What is your name?"

"Ian."

"Alright Ian. You will be my assistant. Follow my instructions exactly." He nodded, face flushed, eyes wide. Together they cut away the remaining pieces of Albert's jacket and shirt.

"Could you please give us some room to work Mr. Shelby?" She elbowed him. He took a step back, disappearing into the shadows of the stockroom.

Ian was a good assistant. He followed her instructions and promptly brought her everything she requested. For the next hour she worked on Albert's back.

Finally she knotted and cut the thread and placed her instruments down. "He's lost a lot of blood. And he still needs antibiotics. For now he is safe enough to be moved. To your proper hospital Mr. Shelby." She emphasized the word proper for effect.

Arthur appeared and Thomas pulled him aside, whispering in his ear.

"Arthur and the boys will get him there."

"Oye." Arthur and Ian hoisted Albert to his feet, fully supporting his weight. "We have a stretcher ready outside."

She watched them disappear through the back door. She could feel Thomas's eyes on her. So she turned her back to him, picked up a clean rag and wiped her bloody hands. Silence stretched between them.

"Where did you learn to do that," he finally said.

"I told you, I am a surgeon."

"There are no women surgeons."

"There are _not many_ women surgeons."

"You did not learn that in London."

He was challenging her. Again! This evening was more excitement then she had planned. She had enough. She whipped around, "Does it matter where I learned it or that I just know what I am doing and saved a boy. Tell me Mr. Shelby, which is more important?"

His icy blue eyes locked on hers. He leaned forward barely an inch, "Thank you for saving Albert's life tonight."

She held his eyes and ran through different retorts. But finally settled on, "You are welcome Mr. Shelby."

"You will have a new nightgown by tomorrow." He tilted his head at her blood stained clothes. Her robe had come undone, revealing the flannel nightgown underneath. The material was thick, but it clung to her body. Hastily she wrapped the robe around her tightening the sash. Heat pricked her cheeks but she would not be undone by a bloody nightgown.

"May I escort you back to your flat?"

It was pointless to say no, because he'd do it anyways. She shrugged and he walked by her side down the street.

"Aren't you going to ask me what happened?"

"I know what happened Ms. Dupont."

She arched an eyebrow. "Because you know everything that happens in Small Heath?"

"Yes." He said it matter-of-factly.

They approached her flat, and he looked up at the shattered window. "I'll have your window repaired too."

"Maybe you can have the glass fit the frame this time."

The sides of his lips twitched. He pulled a cigarette case from his pocket. "It's a chilly night Ms. Dupont. Why don't I put you in a hotel?

"I can manage."

He rubbed the cigarette along his lips, light danced in his eyes. "You dismissed a hotel stay as it were nothing. Too used to them?" He lit his cigarette.

She fell right into that one. Next time she'll have to run faster than him when responding to his questions.

"No, because when you take something from the devil payback will be twice as bad."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

He was true to his word. The next day, her window was fixed. The day after she received a new dressing gown and robe. By the end of the week a freshly repainted room. He was sending her a message. He had the master keys. He could come and go when he pleased. It made her grind her teeth. If she thought about it too much it would lead her down dark places. Dark plans to wipe the cocky look off those blue eyes.

No. She would not let those thoughts distract her. Stay focused. The clinic. Her only goal. She was too close to lose sight now.

By the end of the month she interviewed and hired three nurses. The night before opening day she sat by her desk and wrote her final letter. Old memories peeled from the recess of her mind.

Her mother's singing.

Holidays in Scotland, the fresh smell of the mountains and sea.

Playing tennis with her father.

Impossible things. Yet the memories made her smile.

From her dresser she pulled out a large man's sock. Dark blue and patched. She turned it upside down, its contents sliding into her hands.

A large diamond necklace that caught the lamplight and winked.

A beautiful ring that glowed crimson red.

A string of hammered gold bracelets.

And her birth certificate.

Carefully she unfolded it, tracing her finger over her name. She whispered it. It had been so long it was starting to sound foreign to her ears. At the edge of the document, the official seal bright and bold. She shook the sock and the last item fell out. A small skeleton key. She clutched it to her chest, reassured by the weight of it pressing against the palm of her hand. She would keep them both safe. The reminder refueled her determination.

She tucked everything back into the sock shoving it deep in her dresser.

The past didn't matter. The future didn't matter. The present was all she had. The clinic must open.

By morning, the weather turned for the better. The rain stopped, patches of blue breaking up the gray clouds. She stood by the clinic's door and waited for the three nurses to show up. Her fingers tapped her thigh as the hour drew on.

Finally a petite figure appeared. "I am sorry to be late Camilla. The tram was delayed this morning!" Charlotte Moskowitz. She breathed heavily while arranging her dark brown curly hair into place.

"It's alright. I'm glad you came."

Charlotte looked around, "The others?"

"Looks like it is just you and me opening the clinic today."

A wide smile spread across Charlotte's face. "Then we will do our best!"

Camilla flipped the sign for business and unlocked the door. Together they stepped inside. Charlotte craned her neck.

"My! You have done quite a bit to this place then when you interviewed me." Her eyes were wide taking in the details.

She painted the clinic's vestibule a soft blue. A long wooden counter dominated the room. Behind it a large apothecary cabinet with burnished handles. On either side were tall shelves. Currently they held blank folders, but she expected them to be filled with future client files.

"Thank you." Warm light streamed from the window. She was proud of her work.

"Well let me change into uniform. You never know when we will get our first patient!" Charlotte headed to the back grabbing the nurse's uniform on the way.

By afternoon there were still no patients. They had cleaned the clinical instruments twice, but she appreciated Charlotte's upbeat personality. They were sitting in the back surgery room when she heard the footsteps from the front desk. She and Charlotte exchanged a look. Immediately they rose to their feet.

Thomas Shelby stood in the foyer.

"Oh. You."

"This is how you greet patients?"

Her eyebrows pinched together. "Are you need for clinical care?"

"I came to see how your grand opening was going." He looked around. She placed her hands on her waist and lifted her chin, daring him to comment on the lack of patients. Smartly he kept his mouth shut on that.

"How did you know it was today?"

"You placed an advertisement in the paper."

He paced the room. "Different than last time."

"I told you it would be."

"Well, congratulations." He placed a bottle of whisky on the counter. "The Shelby's support your clinic."

She didn't move, shifting her gaze to the bottle and back to him. "Thank you."

He leaned against the counter. "If you aren't busy why don't you and…" he turned his attention to Charlotte.

"Charlotte," she filled in the name for him.

"Charlotte there, come down to the Garrison to celebrate your opening."

"No."

"Why? Are you busy?" He looked around the place again.

Her jaw clenched. "A patient might walk in."

"The Garrison is across the street from the clinic. You write a sign and they will know where to find you. This is Small Heath."

"No."

"Why?"

There was no good reason. She just didn't want to give into him. From the corner of her she saw Charlotte watching the exchange.

Thomas turned to Charlotte, "Would you like to have a drink in celebration?"

She opened her mouth to answer but she cut her off, "She is working. We do not drink at the workplace."

Thomas leaned half-inch forward, his blue eyes holding hers, "There is no one here Camilla."

She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin in defiance.

Undeterred he continued, "There is no one here because you took out the tiniest ad possible to man and placed it on the most obscure area of the paper."

"But you saw it."

"I see everything in Small Heath, including what goes in the paper."

She considered his comment about her ad. "So...no one knows we are open?"

He tilted his head, "I can probably count on one hand the people that know you are open, today."

Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth.

"Come. Have a drink. There are people at the Garrison. We will celebrate your opening. It will help get word out."

"Charlotte comes with me."

"Ofcourse."

He turned to Charlotte and smiled. "I'm Thomas Shelby."

Charlotte returned the smile, "Oh we all know who you are Mr. Shelby."

The Garrison looked different during the day.

"It's unusually clean." She followed Thomas to an empty table. He narrowed eyes at her comment and she ducked her head to hide her smile.

A dozen patrons filled the room, scattered between the bar and the tables.

Service immediately appeared as they sat. Thomas turned to them, "Ladies?"

"Just water please," she said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. A muscle along his jaw jumped.

He turned to Charlotte "I hope you are a bit more fun?"

Charlotte, looked from her to Thomas. "Um."

"Order whatever you want Charlotte," she reassured.

"Rum please."

"Aye, rum it is," the waiter confirmed. "And you Tommy? The regular?"

"Aye. Oh and a round of beers for everyone here. We are celebrating."

"Aye Tommy." The waiter smiled and nodded enthusiastically. She rolled her eyes.

Within minutes the drinks came and fresh beers appeared for all. Thomas stood and raised his glass. "A toast!" His voice boomed, snapping everyone to attention. "These ladies here have opened a new clinic in Small Heath today. It is owned here by Ms. Camilla Dupont. And her associate, Ms. Charlotte…"

"Moskowitz," Charlotte offered.

"Moskowitz. They look forward to helping all the lovely people of Small Heath." He turned to Camilla, "Anything you want to add?"

Heat clenched her chest. Charlotte was giving her warning looks. She forced her voice to remain calm and pleasant and smiled through clenched teeth. "I think you've covered it Mr. Shelby."

"Aye!" the rest of the patrons raised their glasses and cheered. Thomas settled back in his chair. He drank his whisky, tilting his head watching her with cold blue eyes.

"Are we done here Mr. Shelby? Is this charade over?" Did someone just kick her under the table. Her eyes slid to Charlotte, who seemed to want to shout her thoughts from her head.

"Why are you angry?I am trying to be hospitable." Thomas seemed to have blinders on. His eyes never left hers.

She leaned across the table, looked directly into the blue abyss and hissed, "Because I do not need your damn help. I made a mistake on the advertisement. I don't need you to save me Mr. Shelby."

Charlotte placed a hand on hers, "Perhaps Mr. Shelby was just being nice."

"There is no nice with the Shelby's. Nice comes with a price."

His voice remained even. "I own Small Heath Ms. Dupont. This is my town. You chose to come here and open a clinic. You," he leaned forward, "Chose to lease the building from me."

"I can do this on my own."

"With your string patients out the door?"

She pulled back and crossed her arms, her mind working fast at a response. None emerged so she looked out the window.

"I am not here to fight with you Ms. Dupont. Really I am happy about your clinic. I believe in what you are trying to build. My mistake if I have offended you."

She focused her attention on Small Heath's newspaper office. It was a change of scenery from staring at those flinty blue eyes.

"Albert is doing well, thanks to you." He tried for another subject.

"What about the people that stabbed him? Have you killed them already?" The table next to her glanced over. Thomas's gaze shifted to them, quickly they looked away.

"No." The answer carried finality. He was not going to explain more.

"Well, thank you for the drinks and...celebration Mr. Shelby. We should be returning to the clinic." She turned to Charlotte, who had not finished her drink.

"Ah yes." Hastily she put her drink down. "Thank you Mr. Shelby."

Thomas remained sitting as they stood. "Why are you here in Small Heath?"

There it was. Finally getting to the point of this whole entire exchange. She was prepared. Without glancing down she said, "I'm a bleeding heart. I like to save people that are lost." She didn't care if he responded. She turned on her heel and left him sitting at the table. Charlotte scurried behind her. The gray clouds were getting darker, and ate up the blue in the sky. It was going to rain again. Across the street, the clinic was still empty. This was harder than she thought.

A black car pulled in front of the Garrison and a large Jewish man emerged. A white scarf draped around his neck, a black brim hat askew on his head. He gripped his cane and hobbled confidently towards the Garrison.

There was movement behind her, and she knew it was Thomas that stood there.

"Alfie," he greeted.

"You expect me drink out of this shit ole'?" Alfie waved his cane at the building.

"I have a private room for you in the back."

"The back! Are you embarrassed of our friendship Tommy? A Gypsy embarrassed of a Jew?"

Instead of responding he pulled out his cigarette case, cupped his face and lit the tobacco.

Alfie caught sight of them. "Oh I'm sorry loves. That was rude of me to yell at my old friend like that in front of you. I am Alfie Solomons. Baker and traveling Jew."

Was this man drunk?

"Ms. Dupont here opened a clinic today." Thomas announced after taking a drag of the cigarette.

"Oye! A clinic!" Alfie said it like it he had found gold.

She approached the burly man. A big beard covered half his face. She reached out and touched a dry red patch growing on his face. There was a noticeable change in the air. Out of the corner of her she saw Thomas grow alert. Alfie Solomons spine snapped rigid. Her gesture surprised him. She ignored all of hit and studied the way he carried his weight.

"Come by the clinic when you can. I'm sure the other doctors have given you pills already. But I can do something for your joint pain and the skin. And maybe even a bit more."

Alfie's eyes missed nothing. He was studying her just as she was studying him. He shared Thomas Shelby's flinty eyed look.

He leaned forward, "What did you say your name was love?"

"Camilla Dupont."

"And you know my condition?" His tone changed. Coldness crept in his eye.

"I do Mr. Solomons." She held his eye matching his serious tone.

His voice was barely above a whisper but she heard his next words. "You can cure it?"

"No, that would be foolish to claim I can."

He arched a bushy eyebrow, "The first to claim that they cannot cure me."

"I can make your more comfortable," she tilted her head and added, "Comfortable enough to make sure that Mr. Shelby continues to look over his shoulder for you."

Alfie burst out laughing. "Tommy! This one. You don't grow these in Small Heath!"

Thomas continued smoking cigarette.

"I'll leave you two gentlemen to it then. Nice meeting you Mr. Solomons. Remember, come by the clinic."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Thomas sat in his office. The steaming cup of tea untouched on his desk. A cigarette lit, balanced between his lips. He unfolded the paper. And right in the middle was the advertisement for Camilla's clinic. She had taken out the largest ad she could buy. There was no way to miss it.

He withdrew the cigarette and grinned.

She was clever. And she was also sending him a fuck you message. All wrapped into one very large advertisement. He grinned bigger.

"Mr. Shelby? Mr. Shelby?" Mary, his housekeeper's voice interrupted his thoughts. She was standing patiently in the doorway.

"I'm sorry Mary. Were you saying something?" He shook away the picture of Camilla in his mind. He had envisioned her eyes dancing with mischief, a wry smile on her lips as she proudly observed her ad in the paper today.

"Might you need anything else?"

"Oh. No...no. I'm fine. Thank you."

She nodded at the paper, "Interesting news today?"

He looked back down at the ad and couldn't help but grin again.

"Aye."

"Will you be going into town today?"

"Ye-" he paused. He caught himself wanting to rush into Small Health, waving the ad in Camilla's face, maybe even saying something adversarial just to get a rise out of her. She would have a snappy retort for him. He'd be tempted to say something back. He caught himself with these thoughts, warning shots firing in his mind.

"No," he forced himself to say it slowly so it would lock into his mind. "I will be staying here today."

"Alright, I will have lunch prepared." Mary disappeared down the hall.

He stared at the advertisement through a different lens. It was no longer a clever joke. Now it looked sinister. An ad that size was pricey. How would a woman that rented the cheapest flat afford something like this? He replayed the events from three days ago. She had walked up to Alfie Solomons unafraid and studied his skin. At the Garrison, she sat across him ready to leap across the table and smack him. Her honey eyes blazed with fury. She was unafraid, defiant, but also wanted nothing to do with attention or him.

His mind gnawed at the puzzle. He picked up the phone and dialed Michael.

The boy answered immediately. "Tommy?"

"I want you to run Camilla Dupont's papers to the house."

"Camilla...Dupont. The nurse lady?"

"She's a doctor." He was surprised that he was so quick to correct Michael.

"Now?"

"Aye Michael. Now."

An hour later he had her papers in hand. He poured through every word. At a quick glance everything seemed normal, but if you had to know where to look. And he knew where to look.

He could only trace her residence back two years. Past that there were a three year gap. Going back further she had a single residence listing in London. But he had a strong suspicion what he might find there.

He rang Arthur. His brother took forever to answer the phone. He gave him Camilla's information and addresses and in very specific detail told him what he was looking for.

After he hung up pulled out a cigarette from its case. His mind wasn't settled. His kind kept circling the information on Camilla. Everything inch of him told him to be cautious. He had been here before. He glanced over at the photo of Grace on his desk. She smiled serenely back at him.

Mary appeared at the door again. "You have a visitor Mr. Shelby. It's-"

"Where's he hiding out today?" Ada's voice came from the hallway.

He nodded to Mary and waved her off.

Ada sauntered into his office and took a seat opposite his chair. Today she was wearing trousers, the new fashion on the street. She leaned back in the chair and put her feet on the table, studying him.

He let the silence stretch for a moment before his patience got the better of him, "Yes Ada?"

She withdrew an opened envelope from her pocket book and tossed it on his desk.

He picked it up, recognizing it immediately.

"What do you make of that Tommy?"

"I've received one too."

Inside the envelope was an invitation to a party held by Billy Kimber's widow, Susan. She had remarried to an oil tycoon.

"Why is she inviting us? You especially?"

He shrugged, "Maybe she wishes me to help celebrate her birthday party."

"You killed her husband."

The muscle on his jaw twitched. The gun fight in Old Heath felt like ages ago. In some ways that fight put him on the road to where he was today.

"Are you going Tommy?"

"Aye."

"Why on earth?"

"She's invited all of the prominent families. There is someone I am interested in meeting."

"Who Tommy?"

"Sophia Dempsey."

Ada gave him a blank look.

"American. Railroad heiress and a widow too. She moved to London three months ago but has kept quiet. Apparently she is an acquaintance of Susan's. And she wants to discuss a business opportunity."

"Ah. This is why we got the invitations. The Shelby's, ever the business opportunist."

"It's what enables you to buy your fancy clothes Ada." Her jacket caught his eye. He remembered Camilla's rain soaked jacket. Same cut. Fancy. Before she could retort he added, "Your jacket. Where do you get it?"

"What?" She was confused by his sudden shift in topic and interest in her clothes.

"Where did you get that jacket Ada."

"Henry's tailor shop. He measures and I pick the cloth and does it custom. Why the questioning Tommy?"

"Where is he located?"

"By Polly, out in Sutton Coldfield." Ada's eyes searched his, "Are you looking for a jacket to be made Tommy? Do you have a lady you fancy?" She tried to tease him but stopped at the cold stare in his eye.

He digested this. She would need cab money to get out to Sutton Coldfield. The trains didn't go there. Between the jacket, the ad, the cab...where was she getting all this money? He had already checked the brothels and she certainly wasn't there. His male mind lingered between brothel and Camilla for half a second.

"Anything else Ada?" His tone was firm, he didn't want her questioning him further about the tailor.

"Well I was here to take Charlie and Karl to see Esme. Unless you want to know where I get my knickers made I'm going to get going."

He waved her off. "Oh Ada. Don't forget to respond to the invitation. The Shelby's will be going. Bring a date...an appropriate one."

She huffed, "Do not question who I will bring. With your moodiness I'd like to see what acceptable date you can find."

She spun on her heel and stormed out of his office.

Her parting words lingered in his mind.

He could bring anyone he damn well wished. Abruptly he stood from his desk, "Mary, grab my jacket. I am going into Small Health after all."


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't have time for this." This man was was unbelievable. Showing up at her place of business and harassing her about a date.

Tommy flipped the appointment book around and wrote something in it.

"Now you do."

"What?"

"I just booked an appointment with you."

The ink was still drying where he had written his name.

"Very well done with the advertisement by the way. Who did you bribe to get that size ad?"

She caught the bait early enough this time. "I have my secrets." She smiled sweetly at him to make sure he knew she wasn't going to fall for it.

He leaned forward barley an inch. "I have thirty minutes with you. Which room?"

She mock placed her hand on her chest, "Mr. Shelby, that is no way to ask a lady on a date."

His lips twitched at her innuendo.

"Which room," he repeated.

He wasn't going to give up on this. She rolled her eyes."Fine. Follow me." She led him to the first room and pointed for him to sit on the examination table. Surprisingly he obeyed.

"Are you going to close the door?"

She held his eye. "Do I need to?"

He broke eye contact and cleared his throat. "I have been invited to a very special party. A birthday party. Would you kindly oblige and be my date."

"Who's party?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "The wife of an old acquaintance."

"Who's the acquaintance?"

"You don't know him."

She crossed her arms and glanced at her wristwatch. "Is this how you want to spend the rest of your appointment time? Dodging my answers? It is a very poor way to convince me to do anything."

He pulled out his cigarette case. But paused and put it back in his pocket. He must've remembered what she told him about smoking in her clinic.

"Billy Kimber. That's my old acquaintance. It's his widow, Susan's birthday."

"Ah, there's the rest of it. And I'm sure you and this Billy Kimber have a sordid history?"

He didn't rise to her bait either and continued, "It will be at her manor. You will need a fancy dress."

There was an opportunity here. It would be foolish to not strike a deal. "I _may_ consider it. On one condition."

He arched an eyebrow. "Let's hear it."

"I want this clinic to be able to be accessible to anyone."

Thomas shrugged, "Sure."

He wasn't comprehending her the scale of what she meant. "I don't mean anyone in Small Heath... who are mostly Peaky Blinders. I mean _anyone_ that wants to come. I want that to be known. You can go to the Garrison and make another toast of it if you want." She saw a small curl of his lips as she referenced his grand gesture on her clinic's opening day.

He caught her meaning. "Alfie Solomons."

"And whomever else wants to come. From whatever association they are from."

He shrugged again, but there was a hard glint in his eye. "People can do whatever they want."

"In theory. But you are Thomas Shelby. People that are not the Peaky Blinders won't visit here unless they know you approve of it. This is sanctuary for all."

And because she just couldn't help it, she poked the bear. "You may smoke one, cigarette to think about it. One."

He rose from the table and closed the space between them so fast it made her take an involuntary step back. His face inches away, his eyes locked with hers. "You forget yourself Ms. Dupont in how you speak to me." His voice was soft, but she could hear the malice riding beneath.

In that moment she caught a glimpse of the man other people whispered about. Why people crossed to the other side of the street when they saw him coming. She had precise clarity how he got his reputation.

Cold fingers tapped down her spine but she held his eye, "You signed yourself in as my patient. I speak the same way to all my patients."

Seconds passed. The muscles on his jaw danced. Finally he took a step back. She let out a slow quiet breath.

"I will allow it."

"Then I will make sure to be the most dazzling date you've ever had."

* * *

She didn't like to leave town, it opened her up to too much risk. But she had to go to Sutton Coldfield to get an appropriate dress made. After looking at the invitation she learned that it wasn't a birthday party. This was a grand fucking ball. She didn't need a dress. She needed a proper evening gown. And if she had any other feelings about why she was feeling eager about dressing up... well she dismissed them quickly. Distractions wasn't what she needed now.

While she was out she used it as an opportunity to post her final letter.

It was night by the time she returned to Small Heath. She went to the clinic and reviewed the patient log. Charlotte had ran the clinic while she was away.

As she turned the lock and turned down the alley a figure peeled away from the shadows.

"Did you find a dress?"

She jumped. "Christ. Don't scare me like that."

Thomas Shelby stood with hands in his pockets, the brim of his cap pulled low.

"What are you doing there? Standing the alley like that? Have you been watching me?" She worked to keep her voice from rising.

"I thought I'd escort you home."

"Joy."

There was no point in dodging him. The alley was small, and he obviously knew where she lived. He escorted her down the winding alley in silence. They stepped over a handful of passed out drunks. In a dark corner a couple was openly copulating. The tiny alley held and magnified the scent of the coal factories. Already her skin felt as if covered in soot.

He gestured around, "This alley doesn't bother you Ms. Dupont?"

"This world is dark and mad place. Who am I to judge."

Her words must've surprised him because he stopped and turned to her. "Tell me why you came to Small Heath."

It was an honest straight forward question but she remained silent. So he continued, "You know its reputation. You know the dangers here. You..." he stopped id sentence, working the rest out in his mind.

She swallowed, her palms clammy, watching the realization grow in his eye.

"That's precisely why you came." He concluded.

Speaking now would be dangerous. She avoided his gaze because she knew he would see the truth of what he said reflected in hers.

"You are using Small Heath because you know people are afraid to come here. It's reputation is your protection."

She needed to get his mind off the subject. Stick close to the truth without revealing its entirety.

"You are right. It certainly does have a reputation. But I feel safe here." She kept her voice light, as if acknowledging the weather.

"The clinic...it's a front. That's why you want it to be open for everyone. The more gangsters there, the safer it will be for you from...whomever you need protection from."

He was quick. Too quick.

"Who are you running from?"

How to derail his mind? She weighed her options. In one motion she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

It wasn't the best kiss, lasting barely three seconds. But it worked.

He stumbled back, startled. His blue eyes pierced hers.

She turned and carefully picked her way through the trash in the alley, leaving him speechless in the shadows of the alley.


	6. Chapter 6

The number of guns he had on him was ridiculous...even for him. He had one in his holster, one under the seat of his car, another in the back seat of his car, and one pinned under the passenger seat.

His car sat outside Camilla's flat. He debated about removing a few before he went to knock on her door.

It had been three days since their mysterious alley walk. He had come too close to her truth. His mind bounced from the new information he learned and...her lips. Guns and distracting kisses. He could never claim his profession to be boring.

The front door opened, and she stepped out. The guns, were immediately wiped from his mind.

Her silver blonde hair was pinned in the latest fashion. She was wearing a sapphire colored ball gown with delicate silver embroidery. It was cut low displaying her elegant neck and draped in a way that accentuated her waist.

She stood in the doorway, posture perfect, a lady expecting to be waited on. These were her true colors. The truth sank into his bones.

He got out the car and faced her. "You clean up nicely." The compliment didn't quite come out right. He cleared his throat and tried again. She didn't bother waiting for his second chance, and crossed to her side of the car, opened the door herself and climbed in.

He remained standing on the street.

She opened her door a crack, craned her neck, "Are we going?"

He climbed into his seat, sneaking a glance at her and tried once more. "You look lovely Ms. Dupont."

Her eyes remained fixed on the passenger window. "Hmmm."

There was no point in further rectifying his comment. He got on with it and pulled the car onto the road. Small Heath faded. The sun was half dipped below the horizon. It's golden light illuminating the rolling hills of the countryside. Tuberose, her perfume weaved around him. Like an invisible veil, peace floated over him.

They wound through the country roads until he found his turn. A long road flanked by tall oak trees stretched before him. It led to a huge estate, three times the size of his. It's lawns perfectly manicured. He pulled into the circular driveway.

The moment they stepped out of his car a butler immediately appeared. He gave their name and the butler gestured for more servants. Their bags were gathered and placed into the rooms of the guest wing of the house, as was proper for all traveling guests.

He reached for his cigarette case.

He inhaled the tobacco and watched Camilla glided from one room to another, unaffected by the grandness of it all.

"Tommy!" Ada's voice came from the crowd. Polly and Arthur trailed behind her. They circled him. A dapper gentleman standing next to Ada. She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, daring him to challenge the appropriateness of her date.

"Good to see you Ada." He didn't have the energy to rise to her bait.

"And who is this Tommy?" Her eyes traveled over to Camilla.

"Camilla Dupont, this is my sister Ada. Polly, Arthur." He introduced everyone.

"Lovely to meet you." Camilla returned.

"They have a juggler and fire breather here! For the entertainment Tommy!" Arthur cut in.

"Oh yes and there is a firework show after dinner" Ada added.

"Everyone, behave yourselves. We have business tonight.

"That's a beautiful dress," Polly observed. "Where did you get it made?"

"Oh a friend of a friend's recommendation. I actually don't remember it offhand but I can get the name for you," Her deflection was smooth, easy, non-insulting.

But this was Polly and very little escaped her. Polly it a cigarette studying Camilla. "Dear, come let's go have a look at the fire breathers." She hooked her arm into Camila's and led them through the crows.

"Thomas Shelby!" Henry Lewis stepped forward and offered his hand. "Good for you to come Tommy." Henry was a tall lanky man with a bold black mustache that made him look like he had a permanent frown. But his voice was deep, gentle, and his eyes friendly. "Ah, here she is. I want to introduce you to a friend of mine from America."

Henry waved at a lady in the crowd. "This is Mrs. Sophia Dempsey." Henry introduced her with reverence.

Sophia held out her hand, her chin raised. Even though he was taller far taller her, he had the feeling distinct feeling that she looked down her nose at him. Her hair was streaked with gray, her dark brown eyes small and beady. Lines spanned from her thin small lips.

"Mrs. Dempsey."

She sized him up in less than a minute.

"Why don't you two go into the library? Have a little privacy? I believe Mrs. Dempsey has a business opportunity for you. " He gestured down the hallway.

He lit another cigarette once he was alone with her in the library. She wasn't a woman for pleasantries.

"I have a job for you Mr. Shelby."

The upper class. No matter how well established he was, they would never see him as one of them. His bloodline was different. It would always be dirty. He would always be to them, someone that did a job for them. And the way she snapped his name. His price just went up.

"I am looking for my son."

"I am not the police Mrs. Dempsey."

"I would not come to you if I haven't tried them already." She paced the library. "His name is Richard. I thought him dead in the war. Imagine my surprise when through friends I learned he is still alive. He started writing me letters explaining his absence. I asked him to come home, but he never did. He was in America for a good bit. Recently, I heard he came to Birmingham. That's your territory right Mr. Shelby?"

He took a long drag of his cigarette.

"Again Mrs. Dempsey, I am not the police."

"My deceased ex-husband is James Vanderbilt. Do I need to state who his brother is."

He already knew the end of this conversation.

"If you find my son, you will be paid handsomely. Part of the payment will be the Shelby's partial ownership in American the railroad. I hear you are expanding your business there. I am sure you can see how you can scale your foothold with my help."

The smoke from his cigarette swirled in the lamplight. Like pale ghosts evaporating in the night.

"Find my son. You get the rails Mr. Shelby."

"That is an interesting offer Ms. Dempsey. Have you considered your son, who I presume is a grown man, doesn't want to be found?"

He jaw was set. She didn't like his question.

"I can grant you two immediate rail access on the northeast. As a show of faith."

He calculated the percentage rise to his business and combed through the risks and holes of the engagement.

"The last whereabouts was with a woman named Vesper Winchester. Find her and you will find him."

The rest of the evening passed surprisingly pleasantly. Tables with assorted food was set up, and as the night drew up a grand elaborate cake was brought out. The property was so large there were three bands to cover the guests.

He asked Camilla to dance and surprisingly she agreed. A fast song had come on and he was guiding her on the dancefloor. He could smell the champagne on her breath as he twirled her around. She tilted her head back and laughed, enjoying the music.

When the song ended he led her off the dance floor, she already had another champagne in hand. They were by the edge of the crowd and he was reaching for another cigarette when her entire demeanor changed.

"Tommy. Don't move." She words were sharp, laced with alarm.

She positioned herself in front of him, using his body to shield as much of herself as she could.

"This is the first time you called me that."

"Called you what?" Her cheeks were flushed from the dancing and alcohol.

"My name. Not Mr. Shelby."

"Oh..." She was distracted, her attention on the crowd, trying to peek around his shoulder.

He craned his neck over his shoulder.

"Don't! Don't do that." She reached out and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn his head back. He stepped closer. "Who are we hiding from?" Perhaps she was tipsy.

"And don't say no one."

She swallowed, the whites of her eyes large and bright.

"No snappy response?"

She was too distracted to focus on him. "Escort me outside. Now. Right now." Her fingers dug into his arm and tugged at him. She carefully stayed by his side, using him as a shield against the crowd. As they turned down the hallway he used the moment to look behind him to see what had set her on edge. There were several people standing behind him. Mrs. Sophia Dempsey was the only person he recognized. She moved through the crowd, her eyes sharp, like a wolf stalking prey.


	7. Chapter 7

Her chest tightened as the night drew on. She paced the guest bedroom. After Tommy had escorted her outside, she claimed having a headache and crept to her room through the back stairs. She spent the past two hours in her rooms hiding out. At least she was able to change out of the tight fitting gown.

She had been spotted. She needed to leave. Right now. But she couldn't go back downstairs and risk a confrontation. And Tommy had keys to the automobile.

She could try to find another driver. But it would mean wandering through the house and risk being seen.

She could ask Tommy to take her home. But she could already see how that would go end. He'd ask her why. She'd give some dodgy answer. He would say something that would get under her skin and then they would fight.

If she can just get to it without alerting him. His room was next to hers. The servants had placed his bags and jacket into their rooms. She had seen him put the keys in his jacket pocket.

She pressed her forehead against the window pane flipping through her options. Most of the guests were gathered in front lawn waiting for the final fireworks show. Her eyes fell on the foot wide ledge that ran along the exterior windows. Arching an eyebrow an idea formed. It was mad. But it was possible.

She opened her window and peeked out. Definitely wide enough for one foot. Craning her neck she eyeballed the distance Thomas's window. It wasn't far. In and out. She could do this. Gingerly she straddled the window, placing one bare foot on the ledge. Pressing her back against the stone wall, wall she slowly slid one foot forward. A breeze swirled her skirts. She paused.

Don't look down.

She looked down.

The ground taunted her.

She swallowed.

 _I've done more mad things than this._

That thought pushed her forward.

Slowly she shimmied down the ledge. It felt like hours, but really it took her less than a minute to reach his window. She pushed against it, and to her luck it wasn't locked. The window opened. His room was dark and looked empty. Probably downstairs mingling with the crowd she tried to convince herself. But it that didn't feel true. From what she observed, he was a man that only appeared to be in the center of it when he was actually most comfortable on the outskirts.

She straddled the ledge tilting her body weight so one foot touched the hardwood. As he began to move her other foot, she realized her hair had been caught on the window pull.

Suddenly, Tommy appeared from a side door in the room. He was shirtless, a towel wrapped around his waist, gun in hand. He stared her, his jaw fell open, dumbfounded.

From her hunched position on the ledge, she cleared her throat and said in the most matter of fact voice she could muster, "May I borrow your car keys?"

He lowered his gun, "Are you mad?"

 _Probably._ She yanked her hair free and swung her other leg over the ledge.

"I thought someone was breaking into my room!"

He gaped at her, eyes wide, hair wet and askew, at a complete loss for words. She couldn't hold it back. A full belly laugh consumed her as she comprehended the ridiculousness of her situation.

"Oh you should see that look on your face!" She wiped the tears at the edges of her eyes.

It took him a moment to find his words. "Why do you need the car keys."

"I need to leave, tonight."

"Why?"

"I miss Small Heath."

He snorted.

"You know I'm not going to tell you why."

"Clearly."

"So...keys? And can you put a shirt on please." She held up her hands turning her head. His tattoos, the carve of his muscles already seared into her mind.

He closed the distance between them. "You sneak into my room, scare me half to death in the bath, and you command me to give you my keys?"

"I hardly think anyone can scare you, much less half to death."

"You'd be surprised."

He stood very close. His scent surrounded her. The mix of his aftershave, the clean scent from the bath mixed with a hint of smoke and leather.

The situation presented itself in a new lens. She shifted the weight on her feet.

His dresser mirror reflected the window behind her. Fireworks blossomed in the sky.

"If we were to leave. Now would would be a good time. While everyone is distracted by the fireworks." His voice was low. He took a step closer. "If you tell me why it is you need to leave so badly."

His face was inches from hers. The bursts of light highlighting the planes and sharp edges of his face.

That's when she knew. It wasn't a moment of if...it had always been a moment of when.

He cupped her face in his large hand and pulled her to him. She met him embrace. His lips pressed against hers. Her eyes closed, blocking out the fireworks that burst around them. This was different than the three second kiss in the alley. His lips demanding. His tongue darted in her mouth. The scent of him wrapped around her. She yielded to him, her hands on his chest, his muscles taught under the palm of her hands.

Time stopped.

She went on tiptoe, her tongue exploring him. She wanted more. Her back was pressed against the wall. His knee was between her legs making her adjust her stance. Heat blossomed in her cheeks, in her gut, between her legs. He weaved one hand weaved in her hair, gently tugging her head back, exposing the hollow of her throat. His lips trailed down her neck. She moaned. His other hand pressed her lower back to him, her spine arched molding against him.

A voice of sanity swam from deep recesses of her mind. The warning loud and clear.

"Wait, Tommy." She pushed her hands against his chest, creating space between them.

He growled.

"Tommy. Stop." Even to her ears she didn't sound convincing. But he pulled back. Blue eyes locked with hers.

Her heart hammered, she took several breaths. "We can't do this right now."

The fireworks continued to illuminate his face.

"We have to go. Tonight."

"Why," he gritted out.

The palm of his right hand was pressed against the wall next to her face. He leaned forward and whispered against her lips, "Tell me what this is all about Camilla and I will help you leave."

His other hand rested gently around her neck, his thumb trailing the her jawbone. Each pass of his thumb sent electric currents down her spine, right into her gut. She swallowed. She couldn't dodge it forever. "Alright. There is someone here that I am trying to avoid. They saw me tonight. I need to leave before they find me again."

"There is more to that." His thumb continued to trail her jaw. His hips still pressed against her.

"I can tell you the rest. In the car. If you can get us out of here tonight."

Light danced in his eyes, "Are you asking for my help Camilla?"

She could stay here and kiss him all night and lose herself in his arms.

Or she could uphold an old promise.

"Yes Tommy. I need your help," she said it so quietly he leaned in to hear it.

His lips were on hers again.

He pulled back and leaned into her ear, "Alright. Let's get the fuck out of here."

Bags in hand, they made their way from the guest wing, through the back entrance, across the lawn to the cars. By the time they found his car, the fireworks were over and there was little light to guide them. The chill of the night settled into her bones, her breath forming in puffs.

He shrugged off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. "Here it is." He opened the car door for her.

Suddenly there was a ear deafening crack. She jumped and hunched over as a streak of heat flew by her shoulder.

"You murderous whore!"

She recognized the voice. It haunted her in her dreams.

Immediately Thomas was beside her. She turned to him, "Do you think she means you or me?"

He shrugged, "I do pump people for money."

Sophia Dempsey stood before them, holding a gun, her eyes wild with rage.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

She stared down the barrel of the gun. At her past, at her future. The past six years flashed. Everything she had sacrificed. All because of this wretched woman. No. It would not end like this.

"Don't be so fucking dramatic Sophie." She lifted her chin, hands on her hips. The gun trembled in Sophie's hands. "Do you even know how to use that thing?"

"You killed my husband!"

"No." She stepped closer. "I did not kill my father." The gun was pressed against her chest now, and she leaned forward her face inches from Sophia Dempsey. "He died of a broken heart because of what you did." She stabbed a finger in Sophia's face. "And he was your _ex_ husband."

Rage tore through Sophia's eyes, the tremble in her hand growing steadily. "Put the fucking gun down before you accidentally shoot someone Sophia." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tommy step forward.

Sophia's glare shifted to him, "You! Are with her?"

His blue eyes were locked on the gun. "Mrs. Dempsey, let's talk about this inside."

"She is Vesper Winchester!" Sophia hissed. "You have been swindling me this whole time."

Well, the truth was out now. But Tommy's eyes didn't move from the gun, if he was surprised he didn't show it.

"And yet, your son is nowhere to be found." His voice remained level conversational.

Sophia turned her attention back to Camilla. "Where is he? Where is Richard?"

"It's really hard to think when I have gun pointed at me."

Sophia's nostrils flared, her eyes bulged.

In that second Tommy reached over and snatched the gun from her. Quickly he opened the bullet chamber and emptied it, placing the bullets in his pocket. He stepped in front of her, a shield between her and Sophia.

"Get in the car Camilla." His voice was still low, even toned, but she knew enough of him to know he didn't like this situation. Too many variables could happen from here.

"I know where you are now. I will come from you!" Sophia Dempsey screamed as she got in the car. Tommy slid into the driver's seat and pulled out of the manor.

They were two miles away from the manor when Tommy pulled the car to the side of the road and turned to her. The calm mask was gone. "Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on Camilla? Or should I say Vesper?"

She continued to look straight ahead. The moon was high and bright, lighting the road. The crickets sang. All was calm. And all that calm was about to be shattered.

"Camilla?" She knew by his voice she couldn't dodge him anymore. If she said nothing he would probably kick her out of his car.

She nodded. "My father hired my mother for an event he was throwing. She was one of the many entertainers there. She had a little table, she told fortunes. But she must've caught his eye because he started seeing her...even though he was married to Sophia."

She took a long deep breath. "My birth name is Vesper Winchester. My mother was Evangeline Black. A fortune teller." She let that name sit with Tommy for a moment.

"A gypsy?"

Realization settled in his eye. "Yes, you can see where this story goes."

"What is this she says about you killing your father?"

"My father divorced Sophia. He married my mother. Legitimately married her. Given his status you can imagine the shame that caused Sophia, especially since he married down."

"And they had you I presume?"

"No." She smiled at him. "I call James Vanderbilt my father because he raised me from the age of five. He loved me like I was his blood daughter. I don't know who by birth father is. James...my father...he was no saint, but he is the only father I know. And I loved him. Sophia thought my mother and I put a spell on him to make him leave her. He married a gypsy woman, adopted a gypsy girl as his own."

She paused, old memories she had locked away escaped from the dark corners of her mind. She twisted her gloves in her hands. "My mother...she died of poisoning. Mercury build up in her system. My father was lost without her. A month after passed my mother passed...he did too."

"I'm sorry." Tommy reached for her hand.

"He died in his sleep. I found him in the morning. We were supposed to go riding. It was my sixteenth birthday. I shook him and shook him… he wouldn't wake." Her voice cracked. The pain of that month was never far.

She cleared her throat. "Can you drive? I want to get home."

She knew he had more questions, but he didn't argue. He drove along the moonlit road. She stared out the window lost in old memories.

Eventually the road changed, the air once again thick with the scent of coal and garbage. They were back in Small Heath. He pulled to her flat.

"Why is Sophia looking for you?" The engine of the car was still running. Tommy had one hand on the steering wheel, as he turned to her.

"Sophia and James had a son. Three years older than me. Richard Vanderbilt. We grew up like siblings. In my heart, even though we are not blood, he was my older brother. And he loved me like his younger sister." She paused. Richard's caution was heavy on her mind. She couldn't betray him now. But she also couldn't look him int he eye as she said the next words,"He died in the war. I've been writing letters to Sophia masquerading as him. She thinks he is still alive."

Tommy's eyebrows pinched together. "Why...why would you let her think he's alive?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I never said I was a good person."

"Do you know she poisoned your mother."

"No, but there is no one else but her."

Tommy gave her dubious look but said nothing.

"Are you going to tell her the truth now that she found you?"

She looked out the window up at her flat. She was already thinking about what she needed to pack. The clinic was just picking up. She was growing a friendship with Charlotte. She was going to miss this place. She laughed in her head a little. She bet no one ever said they'd miss Small Heath.

"I had a nice night Mr. Shelby. Thank you for your assistance." She injected extra propreitaryness in her tone. Her shield. He sat back in his seat. His question going unanswered.

As she pushed her door open he caught her hand. "Camilla…"

She smiled at him, genuinely smiled. "You are a very good kisser Mr. Shelby." She closed the door and crossed the front of the car leaving Tommy staring after her in the car.

Once in her room she immediately opened her suitcase. Sophia would work fast. She would be here in a fortnight. This mean she needed to be on a train to a new town by tomorrow afternoon. She would need to post another letter. But that would have to wait until she arrived at the next town. She didn't have much time this time to make a plan. She just knew she needed to keep the key safe. To keep Richard and her safe.

* * *

The moment Tommy stepped into his house Francis was upon him. "Michael called twice Mr. Shelby. He says he has interesting news on a Ms. Camilla Dupont?"

"Thank you Francis. I'll be in my office. That will be all for tonight."

Tommy crossed into his office. He ran the information Camilla had told him multiple times in his mind, but there were gaps that still didn't add up. He rang Arthur.

"Tommy!" Michael's half drunk voice was in his ear.

"What did you find Michael?"

"How was your party?"

"Michael, tell me what you found."

"Well, I know you told Arthur to find out about Camilla Dupont's previous address. But I also did some digging around. It's odd, did you know that she's had several names in the past?"

"Yes." If this was all Michael found then his opinion of him really didn't budge.

"Well, apparently she's been posting letters as a Richard Dempsey."

"How do you know this?"

"She was in the post office the other day at Sutton Coldfield. I know the manager there. He got one of her letters and brought it to me. Naturally I read it."

Tommy remained silent. Michael was good for these things even though he didn't fully condone it.

"So I looked for Richard Dempsey. That grew even more odd. There was a death certificate. But he isn't dead. She's been mailing letters to Richard Dempsey from himself."

"How do you know?"

"It was...amended by the courts. And I had someone do some investigation. Richard Dempsey is very much alive. He is in London. It's very circular... Camilla writing letters as Richard to Richard."

"Aye. Keep on this Michael. Good find. I want to know who Richard Dempsey is."

He hung up the phone and took a long drag of his cigarette staring out his office window into the inky night.

Camilla lied to him. A bold faced lie. She had always just dodged his questions, which he could respect. She never outright lied to his face. Until now. He ground the cigarette out in the ashtray. He eyed gun sat on his table. Sophia's offer was still fresh in his mind. He had enough of these mysteries.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Preview:** Things get hot and heavy with Tommy. Finally her past is revealed...but a little too late...

 **Chapter 9**

Small Heath was still asleep, when she led Alfie Solomons out of the clinic. He liked his appointments early in the mornings. Never missed one. Always on time.

He held the package of medicine she had given him. He now able to walk without his cane. Alfie tilted his head up at the overcast sky. "I do wish you safe travels Ms. Dupont."

She paused at the door. She had said nothing to Alfie about her departure today.

"It's alright. You didn't need to."

She turned to him and searched his eyes.

"It was how you examined me today. Different than the others."

"Mr. Solomons…"

He interrupted her, his attention caught on something down the street. Not all of Small Heath was asleep after all.

Tommy exited from the betting shop, catching sight of them.

"Will Ms. Moskowitz continue to run your clinic?"

She smiled at the way he said her name. "Yes Alfie. She will." She leaned in, "And I told her you were a Captain in the army."

Light danced his eye but his voice remained calm. "Ms. Dupont. I have cancer. I would not wish-"

She held up a hand.

"Let Charlotte decide what she wants."

She glanced down the street. Tommy, cigarette dangling from his mouth, cap pulled low approached them. His stride ate up the ground.

She sucked in a breath. "Mr. Solomons, perhaps you can do me a favor and accompany me to The Garrison?"

Alfie followed her line of sight. He offered her his arm. Together they ambled across the street, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning his surroundings. He waved at Tommy. As his hand came down, he casually reached into the pocket of his jacket.

The dizzle started. Again.

Alfie leaned in close to her ear "The faster you run from it, the faster it will come at you."

Before she could respond Tommy's voice came from behind. "Alfie."

"Tommy!" Alfie opened his arms. "My very good friend."

"I see your knee is better."

"Ah yes. Yes it is." Alfie shifted his weight, pulled up the hem of his pants and started squatting. "Certainly makes taking a shit easier Tommy. How are you shitting lately Tommy?"

Tommy lit another cigarette and took a long drag his face expressionless.

"This one. Really a miracle worker. As if God works through her." He put his hands in prayer.

She caught Tommy's eye. "Something certainly does." His cigarette bounced on his lip as he spoke.

"Well I'll leave you two it then." Alfie leaned forward half an inch, "Safe travels to you Ms. Dupont." He turned and headed down the street.

"Are you going somewhere?" Tommy leaned against the wall of the Garrison.

"Nope." She was about to turn and head in the opposite direction when his hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm. Like a vice around her arm, he pulled her inside the Garrison. There was no one in the bar.

"What?" Camilla shook him off once he pulled her inside the stockroom.

"You lied to me."

"Mmm." She browsed through the stacks of glass mugs stacked on the table.

"Sophia called me this morning. She offered me American railroad contracts if I bring you to her."

She chuckled. It set him off, because suddenly his hand was on her shoulder, her back was against the wall and he was inches from her face.

"What the fuck is going on. I know your brother is alive."

His voice was steady, but anger rode just underneath it. There were shadows under his eyes. The lightest stubble dusted his sharp jaw. He hadn't shaved. Had he been up all night? The mix of tobacco, whisky and leather rolled off of him.

"Those are some pricey contracts she offered you. That's good business Mr. Shelby." She kept her tone light.

"Are you a spy?"

She laughed, "No. I am not like your wife."

In one move he had her arm twisted behind her back, with his other, he pressed his forearm against her throat.

"Go ahead," she taunted him. "Kill me Mr. Shelby. My death demands a high price. Make sure you ask for my worth."

"Stop it." Tommy gritted.

"How do you know about Richard."

"I like to know everything before I agree to a business deal."

"So if you know everything then why are you asking me what is going on."

Their eyes remained locked. His forearm was heavy against her throat, but he didn't press his weight. Moments passed. She heard a car door open and close. The town was waking up.

"I want you to trust me Camilla." His voice was soft, the menace receding from his eye. In a flash she saw another Thomas Shelby. A man that did not want to carry the weight of a gun. But had to because it was the only way to fight the weight of the world.

 _The faster you run from it the faster it comes at you_. Alfie's words rang in her mind.

"I have a better deal for you."

Tommy didn't move.

"I want to buy your protection. I will double whatever Sophia offered you."

"The Shelby's are no longer guns for hire."

"Suddenly too good? Betraying your gypsy roots?"

"Camilla…" he warned.

"What? You will always be a gypsy gangster Tommy…"

His body crushed hers against the wall. He wedged himself between her legs, throwing her weight off balance. He moved his grip, one hand around her neck, the other roughly pulling up her skirts.

"Tommy."

His rough hands slide up her thighs.

"You want to make those kinds of deals with me Camilla? This is what comes with my world."

His knee pushed against hers. The breath caught against her throat as his hand found her. She bit her lip from moaning as she arched against him.

The muscle on his jaw jumped when he saw her reaction.

His thumb expertly circled her, teasing her.

"Tommy." Her voice cracked.

He slid his finger in her. She closed her eyes and moaned, her hips instinctively following the rhythm of his hand. She was slick as the heat gathering in her.

His forehead leaned against hers. He pressed deeper, and suddenly paused. Her eyes flew open and saw the look in his eye. He knew. He released her. She saw the judgement.

She snarled, "What? This must be rare for your kind to encounter."

His hands pressed on the wall on either side of her face. "Playing to be a princess."

"Fuck you."

He leaned close, his eyes hard, "Against the wall like this? Or with your hands on table?"

She smacked him putting her full weight in it.

His head jerked to the side.

She stepped around him and smoothed her skirts. Electricity danced down her skin. _The faster you run…_

She closed her eyes and sighed. She was tired of fighting him. Of fighting herself. "Yes. My brother is alive. He's always been alive. Yes. I lied to you Tommy Shelby. Certainly I am not the first woman to do so."

Tommy pulled out his cigarette case, struck a match and cupped the flame. He took a long drag, holding the cigarette with one hand, the other tucked into his pants pocket. He blew out the smoke and waited for her to speak.

The words that she had kept so deep inside her for so long finally spilled out.

"When my father died, he left his entire fortune to me. Including the railroads. I have all the contracts, all of the papers. My name on all of them. But there is a legal clause from my father's marriage with Sophia that grants everything to the first male heir. It overwrites what he granted to me."

Understanding spread over his face.

"You looked at me in doubt when I told you Sophia was the one that poisoned my mother. Given her status I'm sure there were many that wanted her dead. But it was Richard that overheard his own mother telling the maid she poisoned Sophia. He only told me after he came back from the war. He was changed. He didn't want anything to do with the family, the money, his mother. He left for Africa."

"And the letters?"

"After he left, I took all of the will and fled. Without Richard I knew Sophia would try to kill me or get me to sign the fortune back to her. I went traveled to many places, and wrote letters to Richard using his own name. We made it confusing so Sophia couldn't find me. Truly, I did not think Sophia would find me here."

"Too low brow." It wasn't a question.

She shrugged, "I thought it would work. I learned so much in my travels. I worked at a hospital in Spain for a very long time. I learned surgery. I thought I could open a clinic, maybe start a new life."

She rubbed her knuckle along her lips. Now that she had dumped the truth out she felt a weight lifted from her, like an old ghost finally deciding to fade into the night. Her time at Small Heath surrounded her, Tommy at the center of it all. She tilted her head up at him. "This thing with us Tommy…"

He opened his mouth to respond.

She kissed him.

Slow and soft.

His hand cupped her face just as she pulled him close feeling the beat of his heart. Their breath mingled. She tugged off his jacket without breaking the kiss. He lifted her onto the table. Her hands were in his hair. He pulled back just enough for him to say against her lips, "Stay Camilla. We'll figure it out. Stay-"

The window shattered. Bullets ricocheted into the room. Tommy tucked her body against his as more bullets sprayed the room. He threw them against the floor. There was an explosion to her right. Her ears were ringing. Tommy was pulling her to her feet. His white shirt stained with red.

Strange men surrounded them. Too many of them. Tommy pulled out his gun from the holster. More gunshots echoed. Someone was twisting her arm behind her back. She screamed trying to wrench free. Her face exploded in pain. The taste of copper coated her mouth.

She opened her mouth to scream "Tommy!" But his name never left her lips.


	10. Chapter 10

**Preview: The previous explosion and bullets lead to new fears for Tommy. An unexpected visitor appears.**

 **Chapter 10**

He really needed the ringing to stop and his eyesight to sharpen. God this shit needed to stop. France was crap. This was crap. The tunnels….

"Tommy!"

His vision snapped into place, the ringing faded. As his senses fully returned he got his bearings. No France. No tunnels.

He was surrounded by kegs of beer. The stockroom of the Garrison. Arthur and Michael were shouting in his face.

Everything came back at once. The bullets, the explosion, the gunfight. He rolled to his side, and winced. His shoulder was on fire.

"Tommy, are you alright?" Arthur squatted by his side.

He managed to get out a grunt. "What happened?" He spat blood from his mouth. A throbbing ache grew from his jaw to his right temple.

"We heard the explosion Tommy. And then the bullets and we came. Found you on the floor."

He stitched together the last moments.

"Camilla. Where is Camilla?"

Arthur shook his head.

He swayed on his feet, Arthur supporting half his weight. Blood was everywhere. Stained his shirt, the floor, in his mouth. But he tasted something much worse than the copper bite. Fear.

"They have Camilla." He remembered her screaming. Men grabbing her, punching her. The image wiped away all the pain in his body. HIs gut clenched. He had pushed away from Arthur, leaning against the wall, and lighting a cigarette. He needed it to think through the panic that was ripping through his chest.

"Who were they?"

"You didn't see them?"

"No Tommy. We heard everything, and came running. When we got here you were the only one on the ground."

"Fuck."

"They got you in the shoulder. We need to take care of that Tommy."

"I'm fine."

"You are bleeding Tommy."

"We need find Camilla. Call the boys. Family meeting. Now."

He hobbled out of wreckage of the Garrison. His jaw set against the pain and the fear. Arthur had taken off to round up the family. They were to meet back at the betting shop.

A black car rumbled next to him. Alfie Solomon's car.

"Tommy!" The familiar Alfie Solomon's bellow.

He stopped walking. The car idled next to him.

"Something got you in the shoulder Tommy." Alfie leaned out of the car and pointed at the obvious blossoming red stain.

Alfie looked up and down the street and fidgeted with his hat.

"What is it Alfie."

"Small Heath… really it's a shit 'ole ain't it Tommy?"

He didn't have time to be heckled by Alfie Solomons today. He took a few steps, but Alfie rolled the car next to him, "I was driving out here Tommy, after seeing Camilla this morning. On my way, I saw two cars drive in. The men didn't look like Small Heath. Too clean."

That got his attention. "Tell me."

"Saw an emblem on the cars Tommy."

"What was it."

"A rose."

"Fuck."

Alfie studied Tommy. "Does this have something to do with your shoulder?"

"Sophia Dempsey. She has Camilla."

Alfie shifted in his seat, a hard glint entering his eye. "Where."

"I'm having my boys find out."

Alfie nodded, short and curt, "I will too."

He raised an eyebrow. Alfie never offered to help unless he wanted something in return. Alfie must've been his reaction, "This is for Camilla. Not for you Tommy. I will let you know what I find."

Without further explanation Alfie pulled off.

Tommy hobbled to the betting shop. Arthur had called the rest of the family and he relayed the events and everything he knew about Camilla. The boys had their orders and dispersed to find out where she was.

Three days passed. Three bloody days and not a word. No one could find Camilla. There wasn't enough whisky to ease his mind.

And then finally a call came. Alfie came through with the news. She was being held in a warehouse outside of town.

Before Alfie finished, Tommy had a map out and evaluating the strategy. By nightfall he had assembled his men and they surrounded the warehouse. There was just one light, but no sound came. He didn't like it. Too quiet. Either Camilla was dead...or worse.

They stormed the warehouse. Arthur shot three men, he took care of two and his boys took care of the rest.

Deep in the back of the warehouse he found Camilla. He had to prevent himself from smashing something when he saw her.

She was tied to a chair. Her dress covered in her blood. Her head rolled to the side, unconscious. Her eyes were swollen shut from punches. Her right arm lay at an unnatural angle.

Her hands were ripped and bloody. She had fought them. Hard. Good girl.

She moaned and whimpered when he approached. Her muscles spasmed as if trying to dodge more blows. One eye tried to flutter open.

"F-fuck o-of" Her voice hoarse, as she whispered it through bloody lips.

"It's me. Tommy. Camilly it's me Tommy."

There was a pause. Her brows pinched together.

"It's alright. No one will harm you. I'm going to get you home Camilla. You are safe."

"Tommy." He never felt so happy for someone to whisper his name. Her face relaxed and she passed out.

He untied her and carried her to the car. "Get Charlotte. Have her meet me at Arrow House." He said over his shoulder to Arthur.

Gently he set Camilla in the car. It was the longest drive of his life. He only started to breath deeper once he got her inside and settled into the bedroom.

Charlotte appeared shortly. He left the room as she undressed Camilla and checked her wounds.

Francis met him in the hallway, "Charlie is sleeping. Does the lady need anything?"

"Hot water."

"And you sir? Whisky?"

He nodded and reached for a cigarette and took a seat in the hallway, waiting for Charlotte's prognosis. He watched the grandfather clock in the hallway, each second, each minute passed with strain. Finally Charlotte appeared, and he was on his feet immediately.

"She will be alright. The worst is her arm and wrist. Sprained, but she'll heal."

"Nothing else?"

Charlotte shook her head, "Nothing else."

His chest eased. Francis appeared and he drank the whisky in two gulps.

"I've cleaned her wounds, but they will need to be redressed every few hours."

"I'll do it."

Charlotte nodded, "I'll be back tomorrow to check on her. I've set her arm and wrist. Let her rest Tommy. Don't go asking her all the questions yet. Give her some time"

Once Charlotte departed, Tommy entered Camilla's room. Her face looked better. Swollen, but the cleaned off. Her right arm was wrapped, and her hair brushed back from her face. She looked so tiny in the large bed. Bandaged like this, she looked helpless.

The floorboard creaked under his foot.

"Say one word about how I look and I will punch you in the fucking face Thomas Shelby."

So much for helpless.

Her voice was hoarse, her words were thick, but she still had bite. He smiled.

"Should've told them to finish you off then." But his voice was tender. He knelt by her side and rubbed his knuckle gently across her cheek. She blinked with her one open eye and tried to smile.

"It's good to see you Tommy."

"It's good to see you too Camilla."

He wanted to ask her questions so he could go and shoot the rest of the people that did this to her. But he heeded Charlotte's words. Now was not the time.

"I was going mad the past three days until I found you."

She looked at him with warmth with her one eye. "You found me."

"Always."

"It was Sophia."

"I know."

"It isn't over with her."

"I know."

She licked her lips. "Kiss me Tommy."

"You are hurt."

"Kiss me. Please. When they had me in that warehouse...they hit me over and over again. They threatened me. They…" her voice cracked. "I thought of you when they were hitting me. I thought of you…"

He kissed her.

She didn't flinch.

Salt and blood lingered on his lips. With her good hand, she gripped the lapel of his vest.

He leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes locking with hers. "I'm here Camilla. Rest."

He sat by her side until she fell asleep. She twitched in her dreams, moaning, fighting off invisible attackers. His hands clenched watching her.

As the night drew on, he made his way to his study. He leaned over his desk, arms spread across its surface, weighing his options, formulating a plan. Close to midnight Francis appeared in his study.

"Ms. Polly Grey is here Mr. Shelby. And she has a guest."

Polly appeared in the doorway. A man about his height stood behind her. Dirty blonde hair, light green eyes, sharp features.

There was a stern look on Polly's face. He looked from Polly to the man.

"What's going on Pol?"

"There's someone you need to meet."

The light haired man stepped into the study with confidence, sizing up the room and him in minutes. He reached forward a hand, "My name is Richard Dempsey. I am Camilla's brother."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 Preview: Camilla recovers and learns about a new business deal involving her future.

Her face hurt. Her jaw hurt. Her hair hurt. The first week was horrid with pain.

The nightmares still came. But everytime she shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, the shadowy image of a faceless man beating her, Tommy was there, speaking in low tones, driving away the demons. He had settled himself into the comfortable arm chair. He was never there when she fell asleep, and only there when she had the nightmares.

Her brother came and went. She had been estactic to see him, but it had been difficult to show it because it hurt to move her face. She could only drool and groan happily at him from under her bandaged face. Tommy gave him a room in the house. Richard told her they would talk once she got better.

By the third week she could use the lavatory without assistance. It was enough progress for her to independently wander the house. Today she had settled in a lounge chair in the large yard of Tommy's house, wrapped in blankets, soaking up the gray sun.

"Brother." She didn't open her eyes to know Richard had taken a seat next to her. The sweet smoke from his pipe scented the crisp air.

"Feeling better sister?"

"Your mother had men beat me to an inch of my life."

"I know. I heard. Her men found me and she sent me a telegram saying she also found you. It's what brought me here to Small Heath. Polly Gray connected me to Thomas Shelby."

She shifted in her seat. If her brother was here it meant things were bad. Very bad.

"The Shelby's, they are an interesting bunch eh?"

She snorted. There wasn't a need to respond to that comment.

"I have an idea sister."

"Fuck. Let's hear it."

"What if you married Tommy Shelby?"

She nearly fell out of her chair. "Dead God are you mad?"

"Hear me out. The clause in the will states that all of father's property goes to or the first male heir. But as you know I don't want it. But part of that clause states that if you are married, half of it will be yours. Permanently."

"But it will be part of the Shelby's too."

"Half is better than nothing. Or dead. Mother will have to settle with only half."

Her brother was a sporting man. He made his own way in the world. Green eyes always sharp, never missing a detail.

"You've talked to Tommy about this." Realization hit her.

"It'll keep you safe Camilla. Mother will give up."

She chewed her lip. The idea wasn't prosperterous. She knew about the clause and often had considered marrying just to be done with it. But marrying Tommy Shelby...that was a different story.

"He's a gangster!"

Richard's gaze slid towards her, his green eyes danced with light, "Polly's been telling me you and Tommy have been getting along quite well actually."

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't look at me like that."

He laughed, a low rumble in his chest, "You are the one that is concerned he is a gangster."

She stared at the gray sky. This was not how she had planned things to go. She got up and hobbled back into the house. Her brother's laugh following her.

She found Tommy in his office. Arms spread across the large mahogany desk, leaning over its surface, concentrating on a piece of paper. His round glasses glinted from the window light. Their last moments before she had been kidnapped were his lips on hers. It felt like forever ago. There was a distance between them now.

She should be civil. He had taken care of her these past few weeks. She should ease into the subject.

"What is this about marriage?"

So much for easing into the subject. Tommy took off his glasses. "Good to see you walking Camilla."

"You and my brother have worked everything out while I laid in bed."

Tommy crossed the room and closed the study door. "It was just an option." He didn't step close to her. He conducted himself in a business like manner. He felt the distance too.

"How's the bones healing?"

"Fine. Arms better, knee's better. "

"Good good." Tommy went to the side desk and generously poured a whisky, handing her a glass. Tommy leaned against his desk. He was wearing trousers, a silk vest, and a gun holster.

Silence stretched between them.

"It would just be marriage on paper if you want it that way," Tommy finally said.

Tommy tilted his head and drank more whisky. "You'd be safe Camilla. Sophia's men couldn't get to you. You'd be a Shelby."

She leaned against the bookcase and said to the ceiling "I'd be married to a gun."

"There are worse things Camilla." Tommy put his glass down, closing the distance between them. He smelled of smoke and whisky, and horses. In a softer voice he added, "When I found you in that warehouse. I thought they had beat you to death. The things you said in your nightmares…" He held her eye and pointed with his finger to emphasize his next words, "They will never touch you again."

"They only beat me Tommy."

Tommy leaned one hand against the bookshelf, his face close to hers, "Would a Shelby marriage be so bad?"

"I've been running for so long I don't even know what it means to have a home anymore…"

His lips were on hers then. The whisky still lingered on his tongue. Whatever distance that was between them faded. Their kiss was just as intoxicating as she had remembered.

The pain, the anger, the frustration at being helpless of what happened to her exploded all at once. She needed to forget the nightmare. She grabbed his vest, pulling him close.

She was wearing only a silk dressing gown and a loose robe. His hands gathered the hem of gown, grazing her thigh. His lips trailed down her neck, nipping at her collarbone, sending electric shocks down to her stomach. She arched her back and moaned as his lips trailed down to the peak of her breast. She needed more, she wanted to forget that night.

She fumbled at his trousers. He must've caught her clumsiness because he caught her hand and pulled back his lips, eyes meeting hers, "Here?"

She nodded. The ache growing between her thighs.

"Are you sure?" His voice was low his eyes searching hers.

She nodded again.

His lips were on her again, guiding her hand.

Suddenly the study door opened. Her brother stood in the doorway, pipe in his mouth. He took in their position, "Well, I suppose that's a yes to the marriage?"

* * *

Authors Question: Dear Readers - should Camilla get married to Tommy? Will it be a short lived marriage? Will it be a happy ending for once?


	12. Chapter 12

Camilla knotted and unknotted her hands as the car rumbled away from city hall. She had insisted no wedding, just simple paperwork. She had gotten her way (ofcourse), and in spite of the rules of only one member being present in the judge's chamber as witness to them signing the marriage license, all of the Shelby's showed up. Five Shelby's and her own brother.

Camilla took a deep breath. It was done. Regardless of her reservations, there was no going back down. The ink of her name was dried. She was a Shelby now.

The car pulled up to Tommy's manor… no, she had to think of it has _her_ manor now. This was _her_ house. _Her_ maid, _her_ household.

"All is well?" Tommy asked, as he fell into step next to her.

She gave a curt nod, seeing the house with fresh eyes. This would now be her permanent home. Thomas Shelby was officially and legally...her husband.

Tommy gently laid a hand on her back as he guided her through the doorway. "Come, I have a surprise for you."

She angled him a side look, "I said no celebrations. This won't be that kind of marriage."

"I know what you said." But took Camilla by the hand, and guided her towards the stables.

The sky was overcast, but thankfully no rain, in spite of the low clouds. A strange tension had snuck between them in the past three weeks. In the evenings he would sneak her long passionate kisses. Kisses she looked forward to. But always respected her request when she found some excuse to retire to her own bedroom. As the wedding day, even though it was just a signing of a contract grew close, she became hyper aware of his presence every time he was near. The scent of his aftershave, the way tension rode his shoulders, the way he clenched his jaw when he was mulling over a topic he wasn't ready to discuss, when he fell asleep, when he awoke. Every little detail about him seemed to be enhanced.

And late at night, when she lay in bed, alone, after a round of passionate kissing, she thought of other things with him. Things she had never done…

"Do you like her?" Tommy's words penetrated her thoughts.

Camilla blinked, pulling herself back to the present. Tommy was holding the lead rope to a white horse.

"Tommy," Camilla breathed. Gingerly she reached out her hand and let the horse sniff the palm. "She's beautiful." The horse tossed her head back, shaking its long white man.

Tommy gave a firm pat on the horse's neck. "I know you didn't want a celebration. But a wedding present from me at least."

She could feel the intensity of his gaze, calibrating her response. Some days she thought those blue eyes of his penetrated her soul. "I love it Tommy. Thank you." She leaned into him, rising on tiptoe, kissing him. He smelled of whisky and cigarettes and something else… like the scent the wind picked up from the wild mountains in the country. She leaned her forehead against his, "Let's go for a ride."

Frances helped them pack a lunch and they rode through the forest. The tension of city hall, the responsibility of marriage, all melting away. Out here, galloping on horseback on the rolling hills, she was free.

They took a break and spread out a blanket for lunch. Camilla stretched on her stomach, while Tommy sat next to her smoking a cigarette. He had one leg bent, his forearm propped on his knee as his blue eyes squinted into the horizon. She knew that look. "Your mind is business."

Tommy took a long drag of the cigarette. "Always on business." He turned to her. "And it will always be on business. It is who I am."

She patted his arm, "I know. I know what I married."

He slanted a glance at her. "You aren't going to tell me to stop now that we are married?"

Camilla tilted her head, "It's who you are Tommy. It's what got you here. You can't stop even if you wanted to. Your ambition is restless."

He reached over and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "People are waiting for me to fall. So they can have the crown."

"Then you'll just need to hold onto it tighter," Camilla retorted, flipping on her back. The day had grown warmer, the clouds thinning just enough for a few rays of sunlight to peek through.

Tommy traced a gloved finger over her cheekbone. "You are different Camilla Dupont."

She held up a finger, "Shelby now."

Tommy's lips pulled back into a warm smile, "Yes. Camilly Shelby."

He leaned down and kissed her. Out here, without the weight of the city, she felt more daring. She pulled him closer, arching against him. Tommy wound his hand through her hair as he shifted his weight over hers, sliding his lips down her jaw bone, to her neck, nipping her collarbone.

Camilla began to unbutton her dress.

"Out here?" he asked.

She bit the side of her lip and nodded. "There's no one out here."

"Except the horses." Tommy glanced as their horses who was crazy nearby.

She giggled, "Yes, except the horses. But I don't think they care."

He nipped the edge of her ear and helped her out of her riding gown, kidding down her collarbone. His hand slid over her breast pinching her nipple, driving a moan from her. "Tommy...this is… this is my first…"

But he cut her off, deepening his kiss, "I know," he whispered against her lips. He covered her mouth with kisses as he simultaneously continued to undress her. She shifted her thighs, yielding to his hand. And when he his thumb found her, he rubbed in slow steady circles, the ache building inside of her. "Tommy…" The pressure continued to build, her hips rising to meet the rhythm of his hand. He slipped a finger inside of her, then a second, never breaking the rhythm, commanding the pressure to continued to grow inside of her. She gripped his forearm, holding onto him like an anchor. His lips traced her neck, "Mrs. Shelby."

A foreign voice made her jump. "Oye! Who's there!"

Tommy's hand paused. He let out a curse, looking for the gun he had un-holstered and placed at the far edge of the blanket. Camilla scrambled to push down the hem of her dress from her thighs, while clutching together her unbuttoned top. Tommy reacted quickly and shrugged off his suit blazer and draped it over her.

"Who's there?" He yelled back, finding the gun and pointing it at the figure that stood twenty feet away.

The figure approached closer, "Tommy?"

Camila recognized the voice.

A muscle jumped in Tommy's jaw, as he lowered the gun. "Curly. What the hell are you the way out here?"

Curly's shoulders pulled to his ears, a happy grin on his face, "The bodies Tommy. You told me to get rid of the bodies. I did that, I'm on my way back."

Tommy sighed staring at the sky shaking his head.

A giggle erupted from Camilla. The whole situation was ridiculous. Them getting caught out in the country like this, with of all people...Curly. She elbowed Tommy, "Guess you are right, Shelby family business really does follow you everywhere."


End file.
